Not all those who wander are lost. ~ JRR Tolkien

Pocket Stories #4

Nervousness grabbed her stomach and squeezed hard. She gulped fearfully. As the compere introduced her on the stage, she could feel her legs turn to jelly. Still, when announced, she wobbled her way forward to the centre of the stage amidst pin-drop silence. The lights dimmed. She saw her mother in the front row nod encouragingly. She took a deep breath and started. Never faltering, she danced gracefully, keeping her face vibrant and alive with energy. Finally, as she stood in a statue at her final position, she saw the audience rise and clap. She received a standing ovation as the curtain drew to the clapping and many “Encores!” she could not hear. Art, she realized was not about ability, but about passion.